The Many Adventures of Carmen and Sandiego
by Goslin
Summary: Top agent in her field - Carmen - has a partner forced on her. A man who calls himself Sandiego. Together, they must fight crime and restore justice and peace to forgotten lands...but not before they argue themselves to death...
1. Partner

Disclaimer: Me no money, you know kung foo. Me no own, so you no sue.

Review please. I'm bored and evacuating a hurricane. This story has been stewing in my mind long enough. Time to bust out my stuff. (Watch out people this could be a hurricane of its own.) I mean that in the _worst_ way possible. Thanks if you're reading.

Goslin

P.S. I f you like it, check out Negaduck.

Chapter One: Carmen, Jeanitita, and Sandiego

Sandiego held onto the little girl's hand like it was the only thing he'd ever known. Then he heard his name over the loud speaker, and he walked over the desk at the far end of the room, pushing and shoving to get past.

"Sand –yee- egg-oh? Right? Like the place?" Said the fat, black lady behind the desk.

He knew what she meant, but to make the little girl laugh, he replied, "Never been. Heard it's foggy." It wasn't even true. He had been to San Diego.

She laughed. _What a pretty laugh that girl had. _'Forget about it' he told himself. After all, pretty soon he would have a little girl of his own. The ultra – sound had come in today. It was a girl, just like this one now; just like _Jeanithia._

That made him smile. "Is the little girl your daughter? Why's she goin'?" Asked the lady behind he desk; annoyingly.

"Oof!" Said Sandiego, bending to pick the impatient three year old up. "Not my kid. She's going home now." He looked directly at the toddler in his arms, "Right?"

The girl nodded, as if it were a chore, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She screwed up her face like the infant she was, and persisted, "When will I see you again?"

Sandiego paused, but he'd been ready for this. "Well," he started, "when you're older."

"How much older?" Asked the girl; so cute it hurt. It really did.

"I don't know." Said Sandiego softly. And he really didn't. He turned to the fat lady behind the desk. "Does she get one of those'unaccompanied minors' stickers? She does, right?"

"Yes, sir" Said the lady. She looked below the desk for a second, then fished out a pin that read 'UM'. Sandiego put the girl down on the desk and let the lady fasten it to her. Jeanithia squirmed under the touch of the imposter.

Everything had been arranged and now all they had to do was wait for their flight to be called. _Her_ flight to be called, anyway.

He sighed. It had been a pretty damn rough weekend.

Carmen: P.h.D.on'ts

The short, thin woman wiped the sweat from her brow. She could feel the cold metal beneath her hands and she didn't like it. Not one little bit. The dark room was dark, and...dark. That was about all she could make out in this light. (Or, in direct succession, lack there of.) She was always being sent on the scary missions, she thought. Then again, she got to do what everybody else wanted to do.

What all the people with P.h.D.on'ts wanted to do. But she knew. You didn't need a goddamn degree or whatever to _move _quickly. And that's exactly what she had to do now. Wouldn't do her a lick of good to know physical science or archeology. Not a _lick._

She heard something move in the back of the room, and a smile kissed the corners of her lips. This is what she loved. She turned around very, very slowly, and reached in her pocket for-

Oh, damn.

She barely heard the explosion before it found her.

Carmen scrambled around the room, feeling heat in her face, and suddenly, everything was blurry and confused. She couldn't see anything and she felt hot smoke on her clothes.

But she wouldn't give up. Not yet, anyway...

A huge fire blazed all around her, and she knew she wouldn't last in THIS room much longer. She tried to think; where did the next room lead to? Where, where, where?

Ugh! She coughed loudly, choking on smoke. Let's see... it leads to the game room. The 'pool room' they'd called it.

Oh, great, Carmen, leap into the room with wood tables and pray you stay away from FIRE. That would work. Yes, Carmen! Leap to your death! Well, as long as it was either die in here or die in there, might as well...

The glass window yielded under the force of her body weight slammed against it, and Carmen went flying into the next room. Only... she was falling down. Free falling in the air.

Of coarse! What other room has glass windows on the outsides of it?! Carmen, you dummy, it's a-

The excessively large mass of water hit her body like she'd hit glass. And the cold chlorination of the mass was like putting lemon on a paper cut. Her eyes were closed. She could hear the amplified roar of the fire from under the water. But at least she was safe...

She felt herself drowning and thought, 'if it's the last damn thing I do, I'm going to...complete...this mission!' With the literal last of her strength, she once again delved into her pocket.

The movement made her rise to the surface of the water, and she heard and felt, for the first time, the roaring flames and waves of heat they produced without distortion.

Dear god! I found it! She lifted the compact and heavy piece of metal in her hand, and streached all the way to the side of the pool to place it...

She sunk again. But she didn't care...until she couldn't breathe. She started a frantic scramble toward the surface-

A large wooden thing of some nature creaked above her. Though it was muffled by all the other noises in the room, somehow, she knew that wasn't good.

She felt a massive impact to the back of her head. Then she lay in the water, motionless.

Man. The P.h.D.on'ts were sure going to get a kick out of this one.

Partner

Carmen awoke to noise. Lots and lots of noise. She tried to sit up.

Oof! Not a good idea, judging by how her back felt. She was in a hospital bed. No doubt about it. She lay back down and listened to the sounds around her. She heard the chief's wife speaking with the man himself.

"Harry, damn it, you have too do something about that girl!" The short, fat woman screeched.

Who, me?

"Why, honey? She's our very best!"

"No, Harry, she's your most reckless. But the gray matter in that girl doesn't work. Besides...she's too young!"

"But-"

"She needs regulation, supervision, ... a partner!"

The chief must have been suppressing a laugh.

"Who?" He managed to say.

"A ladino, for one," Said his wife, counting off on her fingers. "Of good blood of coarse, not bad blood. But he should speak English like a first language-"

"He?"

"Just speaking general, dear. Third, he should be in college, to encourage the girl to get further education. Are you writing this down?" Asked the woman with the gold band on her left hand, jokingly.

"I'm sorry to say," said the chief, "That you lost me a long time ago."

"I'll say!" Snorted his wife. "About ten years ago! But, honestly, Harry, do consider it."

The man sighed. "I've been considering it. The girl will have none of it."

Damn tootin'!

Another long sigh came from the other room, and Carmen heard "I'll look. Maybe if we find the right person, she'll change her mind. By the way, why ladino?"

"Because," snapped the woman with a devious smile, "The mission demands it."

Uh-oh.

Sandiego

Sandiego heard the phone ring in his little apartment.

Damn. What time is it? It must be-

RIIIINNNGGG!

Sandiego scrambled out of bed to reach the phone. And with a voice so sleepy he barely knew it as his own, he answered.

"Hello? Why the 'ell a ya callin' at dis hour o' da ni"

"Mister Sandiego?"

"Er, yes?"

"This is chief inspector. I'd like to tell you about a job opening."

"Job? I already have a job I'd like to keep. Assuming I get enough sleep. Hey, that rhym-"

"I'm being serious."

"So am I."

"Good. I think...I think I can make you an offer you can't refuse."


	2. Partner Part II

1Disclaimer: I'm basically just using the names, here, but...

Roses are red, violets are blue. Me no own, so you no sue!

Thanks to everyone who survived the hurricane of chapter one. Here's chapter two. (Wow. I didn't actually think I'd get this far. But it's amazing what you'll do when you're bored. ) Anyway, if you DO actually give a crap about this story, just send that in a review or an email or whatever, and I'll see what I can come up with.

TELL YOUR FRIENDS ABOUT ME! (Muahahah)

Thanks,

Goslin

Chapter Two: Partner (prt. II)

Sandiego awoke groggily the next morning. He'd been thinking about the 'proposition' all night, getting little adrenoline rushes when he got too excited. But he'd worried more than anything. Who was offering him this great job? Why did they want him?

Maybe the man had said something about it last night, but all Sandiego heard was the large sum of money they offered. If he ever wanted to be DOCTOR Sandiego, he'd better come up with the money for his education. He had a job, but it didn't pay what he wanted it to (not that anything ever did), and it worked him long hours. Long hours he could be spending working on his master's thesis.

Sandiego had turned twenty and hit the ground running. He had gotten married right out of high school, and begun college a year late to be with his family. Both he and his wife, Margaret, had wanted children, but it hadn't happened. Margaret was an impatient, demanding woman, and Sandiego had felt he could no longer comply with her needs.

They had decided that it couldn't work, and Sandiego had been heartbroken by the truth in that. He had never really wanted a family, but when the opportunity had presented itself, there was something oddly comforting in the idea. He had loved Margaret, and still did. He was never angry with her. Never. Not even when she had said she wanted a divorce. Sandiego had just nodded slowly and said "Well, maybe it's better that way..."

The divorce had become official, and they were once again single by the time they were twenty-three. Three months later, Sandiego had received a frantic message from Margaret, where she yelled about being pregnant and how life in general was all his fault...etc. Sandiego had come over to see her that night, and she admitted to his face, almost proudly, that she was not pregnant, that she merely wanted to see him again, and knew there was no other way.

This was, however, complete bullshit, and Sandiego had been dreaming of the day he would talk to her again. But this was the old saying: Absence makes the mind grow fonder...

To the dismay of all parental units involved to any extent, they began dating again. Margaret had softened, and Sandiego had become stronger. They were having the romance they'd always wanted, and they took pride in the fact that they made unhappy married couples jealous of their perfect affair.

It seemed, for a time, almost perfect.

And then they had what they now refer to as 'the' argument. Margaret had started college, and the new stress had made her more irritable. She had called him many times at odd hours to bitch about this, that , or the other. Sandiego had told himself that he was lucky Margaret put so much trust in him. One night, Margaret asked what they'd both been tenetive about for the last few years; Willing to try again? Sandiego had immediatly said no, that that would not bring either of them happiness now; that they needed to wait until they were both out of school. Margaret had seemed to calm down, saying he was right, and then turned right around and threw a lamp at him. Sandiego had dodged the lamp, but her hateful words had nearly broken him. Sandiego had not counted all the things they threw at each other, but he was sure that not all the furniture had made it out of the argument alive.

She had actually broken his leg.

Well, that had been the end of their relationship in any, way, shape, or form, until yesterday.

Sandiego took a look in the mirror and was surprised by what he saw; a 25 year old man with soft, dark brown hair that was short but almost in a girl's fashion. He had large, hazel eyes that seemed to sparkle like a kid's when he smiled. He had soft, almost feminine features on his face. His nose went slightly skyward, but he was still handsome.

He was extremely tall and extremely thin, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. He had long legs and small feet. But his hands were what Margaret had always like ab out him. His hands were thin, like his body, with long, slender, delicate fingers. He never used to cut his nails, and Margaret would make fun of him for it.

Sandiego sighed. He didn't want to think about her right now.

_Jeanitia_

The little three year old girl stared in wonder out the window of the jet plane that would take her home to Jamaica. There were men in orange vests out there, and big cars! Wow! Jeanitia had always wanted to drive a car. Daddy had said she was too little.

'Daddy' was, and had been for almost a year now, Sandiego. It hurt her to have him say 'stop that!' whenever she called him his _rightful_ name. He hadn't had the heart, however, to scold her when she said 'Goodbye, daddy!' and left on the jet plane.

No one knew how Jeanitia had wound up in the United States. Her mother had probably come here illegally and abandoned her. She had practically been on Sandiego's doorstep. He had tended her for a few days, instead of taking her to the police. She didn't want to go with the "Scary blue people!" So Sandiego had let it slide for almost a month. That was when Margaret found out, and called the police herself, accusing him of more than just 'withholding information from authority'...

Of coarse, her charges were all proved false, and Sandiego got off scott-free. He had even requested permission to keep the little bugger, but the US government is the damndest thing. They were holding her temporarily in an orphanage in San Diego. And every week, Sandiego the man would drive from his home in Los Angeles to visit her. She lived for those days, it seems. It also seemed that she was very intelligent, and had a teenage vocabulary by her second year alive! Over the month, she and Sandiego had grown closer and closer. But the FBI had been doing some research on her, and easily located her remaining family in Jamaica. The family claimed to know nothing about the whereabouts of the girl's mother, but said that they wished they could have Jeanitia back.

After deeming the family authentic and trustworthy, we find Jeanitia on a plane headed back to her family. A family she didn't even remember.

Carmen

The room, Carmen had long ago decided, smelled like honey pretzels. The room was her office. Always made her hungry before it was time to eat lunch... Oh, well. She must be the only 17 year old girl in the world to have an office all to herself.

That made her smile.

The desk was cluttered, but what did you expect when you give a teenager an office? Of coarse, she sighed, it was all confidential. She rolled her eyes. Wouldn't want the world to know that 'kids' were capable of running the it, now would you?

Carmen took a tenative step foward, toward her desk.

OUCH, Goddammit! That hurts like a mo$#&8#$!!

Carmen reached into the corner grudgingly to grab the crutches. She hated the things; so limiting. Her right leg was badly broken and now in a cast. She had managed to give herself a minor concussion, but the worst thing was her back. They had some sort of restraining thing on her spine, and it hurt like hell. Naturally, this had to be the day they wanted to introduce her to her new partner.

Apparently, a half-burnt wooden podium had fallen on her back in the pool, and she had almost drowned. No one would tell her how she had gotten out alive. More 'confidential' bullshit. 'At least I'm alive' is not something that Carmen thinks.

The wounded teenager still had an hour before she met her partner candidate at the Chicago Café, and she decided to get some work done. She placed a crutch under each arm and managed to maneuver to the desk. Good!

Now, how in the hell do I sit down?

The Chicago Café

Sandiego had a tough time finding the Café, but the magic moment did arrive, and he took a good look at the place; trying to make a small term decision that might effect a long term decision. To take the job or leave the job?

The café was run–down, but somehow homey. Sandiego felt nervous about the whole thing, but that was normal. He could be a nervous guy. It's part of what made him different from Margaret, thought Sandiego. Margaret was never nervous.

But that wasn't important now.

Sandiego looked around the café for his lady. Let's see... she's short, brown hair, wearing red. Got it. But, he was thinking, how did they know what she was wearing? I mean, that's kind of weird, right?

Sandiego chuckled and parallel parked near the café. He was thinking how he had just been recruited by the 'Goddamn CIA'.

Woah! Watch it, you damn horrible driver!

Sandiego had nearly smashed into the car behind him as his chuckle had become laughter.

Sandiego managed to park the car without any more mishaps, and got out in search of his lady in scarlet.

Then he saw her. She was the perfect image of 5'5" with brown eyes. She was short/stockily built with large brown eyes and intense features. Her thin lips were curved downward in discomfort of the heat of the afternoon.

But, most importantly, she was dressed completely, from head to foot, in a deep red.


	3. The Chicago Cafe: Carmen's Plan

1Disclaimer: Me no money, you know kung foo, me no own, so you no sue.

Hey! Well, what do you know? The hurricane has returned for a third chapter. (And, if you've read my other story, you know that these are long chapters for me.) I'm totally into this. But you have to tell me what you think

Again, if it's a piece of crap, I'll toss it. A few people want me to continue Negaduck, and I may start dedicating more time to that. I'll just wait and see. Your feedback is much appreciated.

Chapter Three

Sandiego

Well, she was almost decked out completely in red. She had white crutches and a white leg cast. That put a serious cramp in her style. Her long, red skirt flowed in the breeze, but Sandiego had an idea it might be prettier if it weren't moving in little jolts and spurts (due to the crutches).

He began to rethink. He had been positive it was his woman just a few seconds ago. But, for god's sake, they knew what she was wearing. Why the hell wouldn't they tell him about the crutches? She stuck out like a goddamn sore thumb. Maybe it was the wrong girl. Only one way to find out for sure-

"Hi," Sandiego offered, holding out his hand to the wounded girl, "I'm Sandiego."

Carmen couldn't contain herself. 'Hi. I'm Sandiego.' The irony of the situation hit her hard. She burst into laughter. "Sorry." She apologized. But not sincerely. She avoided doing things with sincerity. It was a good technique of unnerving people; piece by piece.

She was gonna' work this guy until there was nothing left but a piece of soul to go to heaven.

Sandiego looked nervous again. "Are you...Carmen?"

"Yeah." She offered, heading (more like limping) to a café table. She did not shake his hand, which was still being offered.

She looked at the café table chair. It was dark green with little holes in it here and there. Very menacing, she decided.

She hadn't quite gotten the hang of sitting down yet. But she wasn't going to make a fool of herself in front of the new guy. She took a deep breath, and slipped the crutches up, so that she was supporting herself.

She went with what she earlier called the 'fall' tactic. And she aimed her bottom for the chair and...fell.

She missed. Oh, damn.

Her butt was headed straight for the even more menacing concrete below her. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Sandiego saw her fall, and with speed he didn't know he had, he reached out and grabbed her.

She freaked out. "Dear god! OUCCHH!! Urgh, it hurts like a mother-"

Sandiego noticed two children sitting at a table near them, and quickly covered her mouth with his hand. After a second or two, she calmed down, and he placed her in the chair. Maybe he would be a good father after all....he was starting to get those 'dad' instincts. Must have been Jeanitia.

He tried as hard as he could to push her from his mind.

They made small talk for a while, and ordered drinks. (These were two things Carmen usually didn't do, but what the hell? The man had just been touching her BUTT for god's sake. Might as well make him feel loved before she put him through hell.)

Carmen wondered how old he was. He looked like he might be around college/graduate school age. She didn't hesitate.

"How old are you? Nineteen? Twenty?"

"Twenty-five."

"Oh."

Well that was odd. He looked younger...like a kid almost. A damn handsome kid if she did say so herself. It made her a little nervous that he didn't ask her how old _she_ was, but she quickly got over it. She figured it was one of those 'disobeying cultural norms to unnerve people' things.

Carmen smiled. It didn't work on her.

"Since you didn't ask, I'm seventeen." She immediately regretted telling him her age. He might look down on her from now on.

Sandiego looked and felt confused. He screwed his face up agitatedly, and began to look very uncomfortable.

"Can I ask you something?" He ventured.

"Anything." Carmen said, sliding her elbows across the table in interest.

"Who are you and what is this job?"

Carmen had to contain her laughter. He sounded like _JAMES BOND_ for God's sake!

"I'm Carmen," Said Carmen, once she'd calmed down.

"I know," Said Sandiego anxiously. Sandiego's palms were sweating. He suddenly felt like he'd made some drastic mistake in coming here. But he didn't want to leave. Maybe he hadn't known what he was getting into. Of coarse he hadn't! He _knew _that. He'd always, he'd neve-

"The job is working for the CIA." She was right, but she'd been so blunt because she wanted to see the expression on his face.

Sure enough, she got results.

But not results she wanted. He was laughing! Laughing at her!

She felt the sudden urge to _laugh_ with him. She kept her straight face. She put on a devious smile.

"You think I'm joking," She continued once he'd quieted. "But I'm so serious. That's why I'm here as injured as bad as I am. That's why they told you what I'm wearing but not that I would be injured. That's why everyone at the other tables have on at least one article of red clothing. Get over it."

Sandiego was looking around them wildly, standing out of his seat. Carmen didn't move. She just sat there with pudgy light-brown cheeks bent in a smile.

Sandiego stumbled backwards. He hit the ground hard, but quickly got back on his feet, ignoring the pain in his back and legs. He ran for his car.

Carmen watched him go, feeling the urge to laugh again. _This_ was something she could laugh at. She wondered who he was. He'd seemed so tense. Like a thousand things were going to fall on him at any moment.

She wished he'd stayed a little longer. It was going to be pretty hard to get out of this chair by herself...

Return of the P.h.D.on'ts

The afternoon had been boring for Carmen. And nightfall had been a blessing.

She could get out of that smelly office. 'Smelly' was a good thing in this case, but that didn't matter. It still smelled. She'd gotten out, and driven straight home.

'Home' was a little condo in City Park that the chief had set up for her. Not a bad place actually. Well, it ought to be good, thought Carmen, for the girl they stole from childhood and put in ACME.

Carmen reached, with tired arms, into the refrigerator and pulled out a soda.

ACME was a sub-division of the CIA that dealt mostly with foreign people/immigrants in the United States. Carmen had been selected, at the age of sixteen, to work for them based not only on her incredible athletic skill, but because she was foreign. Her mother had been French and her father had been Spanish.

She sat down on the couch and flipped through the channels on her TV. Nothing good on.

She wasn't a big TV person anyway. In fact, she was referred to at work as 'Oh, technologically impaired one'. Of all new technologies, she liked the computer/internet. It was a great way to reach out to people. So much information...it blew her mind.

Carmen turned the television off and decided maybe she would hit the sack early. She felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. All of her injuries seemed to make themselves apparent in the worst ways. She lay down on the bed.

When Carmen had first joined the ACME crew, she'd been afraid...(Who wouldn't be?) Then, she became excited by the prospect of kicking butt. Something along the lines of Hey! This is what they do in the movies! Lately, she'd been thinking of how few she saw her parents, and the kind of hours she worked, and how dangerous her work was, and her dreams as a girl, and- EVERYTHING. She realized, she'd been screwed. Screwed! But she didn't cry. Not even if it wasn't fair. No matter what, she'd promised she wouldn't cry. Besides, it wasn't like her.

Only a few weeks ago, she'd been to Chicago. She'd come up with a plan to get out of ACME.

She'd marry a P.h.D.on't.


	4. Getting To Know You: Australia

Disclaimer: Me no money, you know kung foo. Me no own, so you no sue.

Welcome back to hurricane country. We're glad to have you with us tonight. The pilot would just kindly ask you to buckle your seatbelts and (hold onto something...) have your tray tables up and your seats in the upright positions. In event of an emergency, we'd like to suggest to you that you put your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye. Thank you and have a nice flight. (click)

Co-pilot to pilot: We have clearance for takeoff.

Chapter Four: Getting to know you: Australia

Carmen

It was three weeks since Carmen had the run-in with Sandiego, and she was beginning to get worried that she wouldn't even have the opportunity of torturing him. Perhaps she had been too easy on him...

It was night and the condo had been quiet. Except, of coarse, for when Carmen decided she had to sit up or down... But even those noises of grunts and swears had quieted to almost nothing as the back restraint had been removed and the leg casts were getting smaller and smaller. Now, all she had to wear was a barely-there 'cast' that was removable during the night. Carmen's workload had become lighter and that mad her worry. It usually meant they were just waiting for the right time to tell her she had some huge mission to go on. She actually wasn't looking forward to that.

Instead, she was mainly interested in developing her plan. Marriage was the only way out of the CIA. Well, not the only way...there was suicide and joining the army....Carmen pushed those thoughts away from her. She really, really wanted out.

She was trying to think. Who could she possibly marry? In order for the CIA to believe her, she might have to marry a P.h.D.on't. She was quite attracted to the buggers anyway. Didn't know why.

You see, Carmen saw any human on the planet with a college degree as a strange foreign animal that was not to be trusted. (But we'll get to that later.)

Carmen thought harder. Who _could_ she marry? She wanted him to be cute, handsome, good looking, attractive, ....has she mentioned she wanted him to be the hottest thing walking?

Carmen smiled to herself.

She had more class than that. She really _did_ want him to have a personality. She had been attracted to several men before. She wondered if she could convince any of them to marry her. She sighed. She was attracted to so many people.

Carmen realized for the first time that this was a serious decision. But this only made her break out in annoying laughter. She fell on the couch and giggled a little more.

Then she heard the phone ring.

Carmen sluggishly got herself off the couch and into the living room. She picked up the phone. Her voice was not the least bit tired, despite today.

"Hello? This is Carmen speaking." Oops. She didn't have to be so forma-

"Carmen? Hey. This is Sandiego."

Sandiego

For the last three weeks, working overtime had pushed his former job offer out of his mind. He had a small position working for a newspaper. The idea was to work your way up in the system. First, you start off making less money that you probably deserve, working incredibly hard hours (where he was). Secondly, if you're good enough, you work fairly long hours and make as much money as is your rightful due. And lastly, you work only a reasonable amount and make a huge salary.

It seemed like a lousy deal, but he held the job for two reasons: Number one, he was good and fast at writing, so the hard hours were easier on him then they might have been on some. Second, It paid better/was better than the alternative; bussing tables at a restaurant. In his opinion, he was lucky to have the job.

But he hadn't been able to stop thinking about Carmen, really. Who was she? CIA his _ass_.

That did not, however, make him feel any better about running away from the restaurant like that.

He might not have gone into it any deeper, but that night, he'd found a list of numbers and addresses he'd written down three and a half weeks ago when he'd first talked to the chief inspector. He'd seen a number with a C by it and decided; _what the hell? _But he was truly excited by the prospect of calling her, and mildly terrified by the prospect that she might not be home-or asleep or-

"Hello? This is Carmen speaking."

"C-Carmen? Hey. This is Sandiego." He was overcome with relief. And she sounded so relaxed on the phone.

"Sandiego? My partner _prospect from the restaurant Sandiego?"_

"Um, I'm not sure about partner prospect, but we did meet at the restaurant. Yeah."

He could hear her giggle and squeal like an overly hyper child on the other line. "I'm so glad to hear from you." What the hell? She's being nice to him? Oh well, she could torture him later. She really was curious about how he was, though.

"Yeah, yeah. Me too."

"You're glad to hear from yourself? That's odd."

"No, no. Not me. You."

"You're glad to hear that I'm glad to hear from you?"

"Nevermind." Sandiego sighed. Carmen heard it in the form of husky static.

"Hey," Carmen proposed, "You want to um, have a kind of sleepover?"

Sandiego couldn't believe his ears. It was a bad idea. She was 17, she thinks she's with the CIA, she can't understand metaphors, she- "Sure."

He hadn't had a sleepover since...he'd never had a sleepover. Who knows? He was feeling adventurous. This could be fun. He wrote down the address that she dictated and packed a small bag of thing, then went to find his car.

Sleepover: The P.h.D.on'ts Strike Back

Sandiego found the condo with limited difficulties, (and managed to park with as much luck...) He rang the doorbell, and was greeted by Carmen, in a black nightgown that was fairly conservative, and defiantly not meant to be provocative.

She smiled at him and he heard music playing in the back ground. She looked excited. He felt giddy. She pulled him into the condo and began giggling softly.

She turned to face him.

He thought of her as 'pretty' for the first time. He hadn't thought that at all at the café. Of coarse, he noted, she had also rid herself of those bandages. In fact, she looked as though she had never been better. The dim light of the room made what he had considered pudgy to be lush, dark, plump southern European skin. Her lips were thin, but her smile was nice; if not a little sarcastic due to crooked teeth. She had thick eyebrows and lush, (slightly greesy or maybe it was just wet...) hair, which was comfortably fashioned in a ponytail.

"Hi." Sandiego ventured.

Carmen looked like she was withholding a laughing fit. "Hi" She managed with a smile.

After an awkward silence, she burst out laughing and said "Come on."

She lead him to the bedroom and plopped down on the mattress. "Got any bags?" She asked, streaching out a little.

Sandiego produced for her his little sack with minimal supplies and she giggled again. "Put it on the floor."

She patted next to herself on the bed, and he plopped down next to her, giving a nervous smile. She didn't look nervous at all... like some other people he knew...Cant' think about that now!

"Okay," Said Carmen decidedly, as if she'd been waiting since he got here to proceed to this, "Here are some things I've been wondering about you. Are you in graduate school or college or whatever?"

"Yes. I'm getting a P.h.D. in anthropology."

"A P.h.D.on't huh? Are you going to be an archeologist, Indiana Jones?"

Sandiego screwed up his face. "A _what_?"

"Oh. You mean 'P.h.Don't.' That's a long story. Has to do with my personal beliefs. My parents were both in Forensics and I came to the conclusion at an early age that college breeds a different type of human being."

"Well, I'm trying to get a P.h.D.o., then."

Carmen overreacted and burst out in laughter that was so hard, she nearly fell off the bed. Sandiego joined the chorus. When they'd both settled down a little, Carmen proceeded to question him.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Getting to that already are we? Well, I guess I do have that affect on women..." He replied in his best James Bond voice. Carmen laughed again, but he could tell she was trying not to overreact again.

"No. Nothing like that. Actually, I was wondering if you had a wife."

Sandiego frowned. "I _had_ a wife."

Carmen didn't seem the least ashamed as she blurted out, "She didn't die did she?"

"No. She didn't die. We're divorced."

Carmen laughed again. Divorced at 25! That's rich!

"It's not funny!" Sandiego said in a deep, serious voice. It shut her up.

"Sorry." She said. She was so punch-drunk, she almost meant it. Almost...

Sandiego proceeded to explain a little more about his ex-wife, and ended with her being pregnant for real.

"Wow. That's deep." Said Carmen.

"Yeah," Said Sandiego, chuckling a little. He felt the sudden urge to tell her about Jeanitia.

Sandiego explained of his own free will how he'd seen the little girl come to him, and how he'd driven to San Diego every week...(he didn't get through that part without a little laughter on Carmen's part.). And ended with his 'dad' instincts.

"So," Sandiego exclaimed after a few moments of silence, "Are we really with the CIA?"

"Yepp," Said Carmen, doing a fake solute, "ACME divisions. We deal with foreign affairs inside and outside the US. The names for those subdivisions are ACME 1 and ACME 2. Clever, no?"

"Okay, okay." Sandiego said. "But if you were with the CIA, why would you be telling me this? I haven't said I would accept the job yet. I could expose you."

"Oh, no" Said Carmen playfully, "You don't have a choice."

Sandiego listened, but the comfortable mattress beckoned him more than anything. He fell asleep without brushing his teeth.

Carmen awoke to the phone ringing. She saw Sandiego lying beside her. He looked truly pathetic with his hair messed up and hi-

RIIIINNNNGGG!!!

Okay, okay. I'm coming. Carmen picked up the phone and slurred, "Hello?"

"Hello. Carmen?"

"Who else? Chief inspector?"

"Yes. That's me."

"Oh. Sorry, boss."

"Listen, Carmen. I've got a mission for you and Sandiego."

"How did you know Sandiego was-?"

"That's-"

"Confidential. I know."

"Carmen! Stop that! Listen to me. I need you and your partner on a rescue mission. There's not much information now that's not confidential, but I'll tell you what I can."

"He is _NOT_ my partner!"

When Carmen hung up the phone, her mouth dropped in disbelief. She was going on the most dangerous mission ACME division had ever seen...with the new guy.

She frowned.

Australia? They were going on a rescue mission in Australia!

Dun dun dun!

Want to know what happens? Check out Carmen and Sandiego: THE MOVIE! It'll be in both the 'Rescuers down under' category and 'Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego' category. IT WILL NOT BE PART OF 'THE MANY ADVENTURES OF CARMEN AND SANDIEGO'! It will be a separate story. But it'll pick up where the story leaves off.

It should be up in a few days. Maybe longer. It will happen though.

Thanks,

Goslin


End file.
